Gathering Dark...

Light faded, allowing the dark of night to envelop the small town. Children hurried indoors where supper waited, men left the fields with welcome thoughts of rest and home, and Steven urged his horse onward. For him there would no rest nor comfort nor supper, not this night when so much relied on the message he carried. His hands clung to the reins, weariness flooded him but he mustn’t sleep. Later, he thought, later he could sleep for days and even then might not be well-rested. For now, however, he must shake himself out of sleep’s clutches and travel on.

It was a welcome sight when his eyes fell upon the light up ahead. It looked like a small dot against the deep black of the night sky, small and insignificant, but he knew it had to belong to a house on the outskirts of town. Only a little further, then, and he could let himself relax, if only a little. Slowly the tiny dot grew larger—a window illuminated in the darkness—and Steven sighed with relief, coming to a stop outside the home.

He slid from the horse’s back, his stiff knees buckling as he reached the ground. He grabbed the horse for support, steadying himself. He’d been riding since dusk the night before and his whole body ached as he somehow found his way to the steps and raised a hand to the door, rapping hard on the wood and yelling, “Conner’s attacked Donswood…his forces are headed this way.”

The door was thrust open by a man, dressed in his nightclothes but wide awake in light of the news, “When? How long have we got?” he asked as his family, awakened by the commotion, gathered in the room behind him.

“Midday, a little over a day ago. My guess would be to expect them in less than two days...they’ll be traveling quickly.” Replied Steven. If they stopped to rest, unlike he had, the townsfolk could have as much another day and a half before the attack. There was no telling with Conner’s men.

“Did you ride all the way here from Donswood?” asked the man as he sent his eldest son off with a nod to gather his cloak and clean the guns.

“Yes, sir. I set off at dusk last night and rode here as quickly as my horse would carry me.” He replied, his voice hardly betraying his weariness.

“That’s a long way to come in such a short time, you must be exhausted.” Said a woman, his wife, as she stepped beside her husband, “Please, come in. I’ll make something warm for you to drink and warm up the leftover supper. I daresay you look ready to fall over.”

“That’s kind of you, ma’am, but I’ve got to carry the news along to the rest of the town.” He said, though it was a tempting offer.

“Don’t worry about that.” Replied the man, “I’ll let the others know. Pam here will take good care of you Mr. …”

“Collins”

“Mr. Collins.” He nodded and glanced behind himself at his family, “Rick, go tell Evan to fetch the Brady’s over here…not safe for them to be on their own right now.”

“Evan’ll will never find his way over there in the dark…let me go get ‘em, I know the way with my eyes closed.” Said the lanky twelve year old boy. He couldn’t wait to tell Fae the news. While the adults might fret and worry, Ricky thought the news was nothing short of exciting. A part of him knew, from many days spent eavesdropping with Fae, that war was a terrible thing but the part that looked forward to the excitement was greater.

His father stared at him for a moment before nodding, “Al’right then…take your knife with you and tell Evan to ready an extra gun.”

As soon as ‘Al’right’ had left his father’s mouth, Ricky was off. He didn’t even bother to grab his cloak or shoes, hurrying only to tell Evan his father’s instructions before disappearing down the stairs and through the woods. He ducked under the low branch that Fae had caught her hair on more than once in the past, nearly tripped over the newly fallen tree that now lay across the narrow path, and—panting—ran forward to the dark building that was Fae’s home.

He sank onto the topmost step the moment he reached it, gasping for breath. He never liked Fae to know it but breathing was difficult for him, especially in the cool night air. His chest burned and his breaths came in wheezing gasps until slowly he felt this lungs loosen. He stood and, rather than knock on the front door, crept around the house to the open window that looked in on Fae’s room,

“Fae.” He said in an undertone, rapping on the window shutters, “Fainne, wake up.” He said, earning a grunt from the mass of blankets that he assumed to be his best friend, “Fae.” He repeated, a little louder, knocking again on the window.

This time the quilted mess stirred even more and a head popped out, “Ricky, for heaven’s sake.” Came Fae’s voice and a moment later she was disentangled from her bed sheets and at the window, “What is it?” she asked grumpily, rubbing her eyes.

“There’s been an attack in Donswood. I’ve been sent to bring you and your Ma over to our house, ‘case they attack us next.”

Fae stared at him, incredulous.

“I know…I can’t believe it either but I don’t think the messenger was lying…”

She folded her arms in front of her chest and shook her head, “I believe you. I just don’t believe your Pa still thinks Ma and me can’t get along by ourselves. Well, you can tell him we’re just fine.”

Ricky sighed with exasperation, “I’m sure my Pa only wants you at our house so you’ll have some company…I know I wouldn’t wanna be alone way out here with cannons firing here and there and gunshots…”

He trailed off as he saw her grin, “You really think they’ll be cannons?” she asked, her voice betraying her excitement.

“I’m sure there will be, but you’ll never see any, way out here on the outskirts. But at my house, now I’m sure we’ll see all the action from there.” He’d known her his whole life…he knew how to persuade her to do something despite her stubbornness.

“Come to the front door then.” She said quickly, “I’ll go wake Mama and tell her the news.”

She turned away from the window, fingers fumbling in the dark to find a candle and light it. Grabbing her rucksack she stuffed her little book, her small amount of change, a handful of her secret stash of sweets, her slingshot, just in case she needed any thing at Ricky’s house. Her homespun gown she quickly pulled over her head and her auburn hair she merely tied back with a scrap of cloth, her fingers hardly able to tie the knot in her excitement.